


Shortfalls And Little Sins

by geckoholic



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M, Romantic Fluff, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 02:44:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6638185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Like so many things, his attitude towards quiet downtime is changing these days, and it might have something to do with the person he gets to spend it with.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shortfalls And Little Sins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tielan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/gifts).



> One of your request was "sleepy sex", and that's mostly what this is. Drift remnants are in there some where too. But yes. Mostly just lazy, comfortable, sleepy sex. 
> 
> Beta-read by shenshen77. Thank you!! ♥ All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title is from "The Outsiders" by Needtobreathe.

Having spent half his life in times of war, Raleigh has a weird relationship with downtime. As an active pilot, free time had this fraught edge to it, a constant sense of impending doom, and later... well, grief and loneliness aren't particularly uplifting companions, and too much time to think about where he'd ended up wasn't welcome either. But like so many things, his attitude towards quiet downtime is changing these days, and it might have something to do with the person he gets to spend it with. 

He blinks his eyes open, squinting out of the small window that allows a bright flood of sunlight into their quarters, and feels Mako shift against him. Her head is resting against his collarbone, tucked into the shape of him like she never belonged anywhere else, and when she moves, her hair tickles his skin. She keeps her eyes closed, and he'd wonder if she's still asleep, just unconsciously reacting to the way he stretched out when he woke. But he doesn't have to rely on guesswork here; he knows she's awake, can feel the fog of sleep lifting from her mind. He looks down at her, and she smiles. 

“Good morning,” he says, stroking a stray strand of black and blue hair out of her face. 

She smiles back, a little dopey still. “Good morning to you, too.” 

In countless interviews over the past few months, Raleigh has been asked what his favorite luxury is, now that the world can concentrate on making those again. He gave polite little answers about food he remembered or sports or soap that doesn't smell like what his granddad, may he rest in piece, had in the army. No, his favorite new luxury is this: waking up with Mako. On his own, not risen by an alarm or Yancy's nattering about how it's too early to be awake. They don't have anywhere to be, and the greatest enemy these days is the PR department of the PPDC, which, once you've fought Kaiju and traveled to another dimension, just isn't quite that scary. 

She's nuzzling his neck, now, and he slides his hand down from her shoulders to rest around her waist, drawing words from her native language into her skin with his fingers, endearments he can recall how to write but not quite how to pronounce. That thought must have reached her, because Mako pauses, holds herself still against him, and then begins to say each word out loud. 

The little laugh she gives when he spells out _I love you_ is the best thing he ever heard, rivaled only by the sound of her voice when she says it back. He draws her in a little closer, tilting her chin up with his free hand, and kisses her. Briefly, she wraps a hand around his wrist, as if to hold him in place, before she releases him in favor of having her fingertips ghost over his skin as she makes her way downward from his chest, past his stomach, to the waistband of his boxers. 

She looks up, question in her eyes, and he nods. He holds her gaze as she takes him in hand; her expression is one of concentration and thought. They're still learning each other, and like every other topic she ever threw herself into, Mako catalogs the results of this experiment with great care. 

Without breaking eye contact, she starts stroking him slowly, and while that's good and they have all the time in the world, he wants so much more. He puts his hand between her shoulder blades and draws another word there, this time in English: _turn_. 

And she does, shifts in his embrace so they're spooning, his chest pressed to her back. She reaches out, behind herself, braces herself on his hip while starting to move against him, sweet sweet pressure, and leans back to rest her head on his collarbone. There's no place where they aren't touching, skin on skin from head to toe, except that they're both still in their underwear. Those need to go, obviously; he shuffles off his boxers first, then pulls her panties down to her thighs. He reaches down between their bodies, pleased to already find her wet, even more pleased by the little gasp she gives when is fingers slide through her folds. One arm wrapped around her middle, head bent so he can kiss her neck, he lines up and pushes in slowly. 

Mako is quiet in bed, for the most part; she doesn't dirty-talk, doesn't scream out her pleasure or even signal it with loud groaning. It makes the reactions she does allow herself that much more precious, the little inhales and and bitten off moans, breathing out his name, all of it shoots straight down his spine. In contrast, he keeps up a constant string of compliments and assurances, whispered in her ear, although he'll admit that's for himself as much as it is for her. She doesn't protest his declarations when they're like this; he gets to tell her how much he loves her, how grateful he is, how good she feels, without the fear that he might make her uncomfortable. Raleigh has always been governed by his emotions; excitement, anger, love, defiance, grief, felt with his whole heart and never held back. Unlike her he doesn't know how to mask them, and right now he wouldn't want to try. 

He picks up his pace, deep thrusts that have her dig her nails into his skin, gripping tightly. She's moving against him, with him; they're finding one rhythm. Lips pressed to the spot just beneath her ear where he knows she's sensitive, he slides his hand up her body, underneath the top she wears in bed to brush against a pebbled nipple, and she rewards him with a small twitch that runs through her whole body and another one of those gasped breaths. He bottoms out, stills, counts to ten in his head and pulls out just to drive back into her in one slow thrust; does it again while he repeats all the words she taught him how to say earlier, now whispered against her neck. 

Her orgasm announces itself through increasingly labored breathing and more force behind the way she meets his movements, pushes back on him, changing the angle to what works best for _her_ , and he's happy to give her just that. She says his name, a little louder than usual, the sound of it echoing in the small room, and it's that tiny loss of control combined with the way her body clenches around him that causes his own release. 

After, once he's pulled out and perfunctorily cleaned himself with the sheet, Mako goes boneless in his arms, but she doesn't move away from him at all, snuggling rather than pressing into his embrace. The hand on his hip falls away, and she yawns. 

“Another hour?” he asks, smiling against her neck. 

She nods. “Maybe two.”


End file.
